Ranger of Love
by Zolarix Aster
Summary: Jarlaxle convinces Drizzt to go on a reality show to find love. Old story, rather terrible. Discontinued.
1. The Beginning

Disclaimer: I do not own Forgotten Realms

_Disclaimer: I do not own Forgotten Realms._

Drizzt Do'urden walked down the hall to room in one of the lower levels of Mithril Hall.

He opened the door. Closed it. Opened it again. They were still there.

"Hello abbil!" Jarlaxle grinned, "What are you doing here?"

"It's my room," Drizzt replied flatly.

"Why, indeed it is!"

"What do you want, Jarlaxle?" Drizzt asked bluntly, glancing at Artemis Entreri, who was standing a few feet behind the mercenary, a bored and somewhat

exasperated expression on his face.

"You are terribly impolite," Jarlaxle said with a hurt expression, "And to guests! To think I had a wonderful business proposition to make to you, too."

Obviously the mercenary leader wanted him to ask what it was. Instead Drizzt directed a comment towards Entreri.

"I'm not fighting you again."

"Nor do I intend to fight you, rest assured," the assassin commented dryly.

"Ahem," Jarlaxle coughed, bringing the attention back to him.

"Now, as I was saying, I have a business proposition to make."

He paused. Drizzt saw that they were never going to get anywhere unless he asked.

"Fine. What is it?"

"Through the mages at Bregan D'aerthe I've been doing some research on entertainment in other worlds," he said, obviously gearing up for some long story, "One

world has this fascinating idea called 'television.' Various events are recorded somehow and people far away can see and hear what's going on by looking at these

boxes!"

"Like scrying?" Drizzt asked.

"Yes, but on a more widespread, commercial level. There are all sorts of thing that people can watch. The one that I am most interested in, and therefore here to talk to

you about, is called a 'reality show.' Essentially that means it's real people who happen to be on television, not actors. Which brings me to my proposal."

"How is your relationship with the lovely Catti-Brie going?"

Drizzt blinked, confused by the change in topics.

"Er… fine. Okay, I guess."

Not fine at all. Not even okay. Neither of them was getting along right now, or was even sure they wanted to be in a relationship. _If _it could still be called that. After

their last argument, he wasn't really sure.

"Okay, _you guess_," Jarlaxle's wry tone made it clear he didn't believe a word, "Now, back to my proposal. One type of 'reality show' that is fairly common is when

various people go and live in one big house together, all competing to win the heart of one person of the opposite sex. This person will get to know all of these other

people, sending one home periodically, say, once per tenday, until only one is left, thereby finding true love."

Drizzt could see where this was going.

"What would you get out of all this?"

"Amusement?"

"And?"

Jarlaxle grinned.

"Whoever has the records –footage, they call it– can charge for letting people see it."

"So people would be watching my private life?" he had finally found a catch.

"Yes," Jarlaxle admitted, "But they would be in a different world: you would never meet them and they would never meet you."

Drizzt thought about it. It sounded kind of weird, but he and Catti-Brie were _not _working out. And he felt he could –against his better judgment– trust Jarlaxle. Besides,

he had faced down an army of drow thirsty for his blood and hordes of orcs. What could go wrong?

"Deal."

_Author's Note: I have nothing against 'Rock of Love' or any of those other reality shows, but the idea is irresistibly easy to harpoon!_

_Feel free to flame._


	2. Chapter 2

Disclaimer: I own nothing

* * *

"Have you told Catti-Brie yet?" Regis asked. Drizzt had just finished explaining the basic idea to the halfling, along with Bruenor and Wulfgar.

"Yes. She took it…well."

Better than expected, actually. She'd quite calmly agreed that it just wasn't working out. She'd even smiled. Drizzt still couldn't quite shake the notion that he had

missed something.

"Are you sure you can trust _them_?" the halfling's tone made it quite evident that he was referring the two mercenaries. It was understandable. Their last meeting had nearly gotten the ranger killed.

"No," Drizzt was worried that Regis was the only one who had spoken yet. He hadn't been sure how his friends would react, and this wasn't comforting, "But they

haven't killed me yet. If Jarlaxle wanted me dead, he could've killed me by now."

There was an awkward silence.

Bruenor broke it.

"Yer crazy, elf. A dozen women? Ye had enough trouble with one. Ah, well. Good luck to ye."

Wulfgar nodded his agreement.

Drizzt smiled in relief.

Looking at the stack of papers he was bringing to Jarlaxle, Artemis Entreri shook his head.

Jarlaxle had put out notices from Tethyr to the Bloodstone Lands, advertising the chance to meet –and possibly date– Drizzt Do'Urden. Of course, what the notices

actually said was more along the lines of 'Ranger of the North,' and 'Greatest Swordsman on the Sword Coast.' Entreri knew, because Jarlaxle had made a point of

telling him that last one, probably just for the sake of irking him.

Still, Entreri was surprised by the sheer number entries. Didn't people have anything better to do with their time? Apparently not.

The assassin raised an eyebrow. It seemed there was a line to speak with Jarlaxle. Do'Urden was sitting cross-legged outside the room Jarlaxle had claimed as an

office, staring bewilderedly at his scimitars.

"Planning to kill him?" he asked.

"What?"

Entreri gestured at the scimitars.

"Oh. No, I'm trying to choose one."

"For…" Entreri didn't honestly care, but he didn't have anything to do while waiting besides talk, so he might as well make peace.

"The logo. Apparently it's going to be a heart with a scimitar through it. I have to choose which one." Drizzt wasn't sure why he was talking to the assassin, but like

Entreri, he didn't have anything better to do.

"On one hand, Twinkle would probably look better," he continued, "On the other, I have so many fond memories with Icingdeath. Fighting Errtu, fighting Obould… What

do you think?"

"Icingdeath."

"Why?"

"Because," the assassin smirked, "That way, if someone asks what the name of the scimitar in the logo is, your answer doesn't have to be ''Tis the fearsome and

mighty blade, Twinkle!'"

"What's wrong with the name Twinkle?" Drizzt asked indignantly.

"It's supposed to be a weapon," Entreri answered, "I think the question is, what's _not _wrong with the name Twinkle."

Jarlaxle was inspecting some of the equipment that would be used to record the show. Apparently these 'cameras' had no magic in them whatsoever. Quite impressive.

Dismissing the Bregan D'aerthe soldier who'd brought the cameras for inspection, Jarlaxle poked his head out his office door to tell the next person they could

come in, but it seemed they were busy.

"–could be worse. What kind of name is 'Charon's Claw,' anyway?"

"It has 'claw' right in it," Entreri replied indignantly, "That already makes it menacing!"

"Do you even know what a 'Charon' is?"

The assassin didn't answer.

"Well?"

"Fine. No, I don't know. Do you?"

"Well, er…um... No.," Drizzt admitted.

"As fascinating as this conversation is," Jarlaxle broke in, amused, "We do have business. Have you chosen which blade you want in the logo?"

"Twinkle," Drizzt said decisively. Entreri rolled his eyes.

"Excellent," said Jarlaxle, holding out a hand for the scimitar, "What are those papers?"

"More contestant entry forms," Entreri glanced at the departing ranger, "Don't let it swell your head."

Jarlaxle started to flip through the forms as the assassin turned to leave. Looking at one, he chuckled.

"Did you read these, my friend?"

Entreri paused.

"No. Why?"

"Oh, no reason."

The assassin glared at him suspiciously, but knew that if Jarlaxle didn't want to tell him, he wouldn't tell him.

"I don't trust you."

Jarlaxle laughed as the door slammed shut.

"As well you shouldn't my friend," he said, looking at the papers, "As well you shouldn't."

* * *

_Author's Note:_ _If anyone's wondering, timeline-wise, this is right after __The Hunter's Blades__; I haven't read __The Orc King__ yet, so that will not be relevant. For Jarlaxle and Entreri, I'm ignoring everything in __Road of the Patriarch__ after they leave Damara, and am assuming that they had some other adventures since then that hopefully got Athrogate killed. This _is _for a reason, not just random whims, so bear with me._

_Well, there's chapter 2…next chapter; roll film!_


	3. Chapter 3

_Disclaimer: I do not own Forgotten Realms._

* * *

Drizzt's eyes darted around the entrance hall, near the doors, by the shadows where Entreri was standing –Drizzt still didn't know why Jarlaxle had dragged him into coming– and studied the pillars before finally turning his eyes to the stack of paper Jarlaxle was holding; the entry forms of the soon-to-arrive contestants.

The whole idea was seeming more preposterous by the second.

Jarlaxle noticed his discomfort.

"What's wrong?"

"I'm quite so sure about this."

"Not so sure about what?"

"This whole thing. It seems a bit…ridiculous."

"How so?"

Drizzt didn't know.

When the ranger didn't answer, Jarlaxle offered "Well, I suppose we can just tell the females it's been canceled. I'm sure they won't be too distraught."

Drizzt scowled at the obvious ploy. The obvious but effective ploy, dammit.

Jarlaxle made a gesture as if to go and talk to someone about canceling the whole thing, but Drizzt stopped him with a word.

"Fine."

"Excellent! It would be a shame to disappoint them like that."

Drizzt started to comment, but was cut off by a knock on the door.

"Come in," Jarlaxle called, his pointed look saying that Drizzt was supposed to say that.

A moon elf entered. She had black hair and green eyes. More interestingly, though not unexpectedly, she had a shortsword on her hip, and a longbow and a quiver of arrows.

"Surinya Telemdil," she said, when no one asked her name. She seemed to be doing her best to not look at Jarlaxle.

"Drizzt Do'Urden," the ranger said. Now what should he do? Jarlaxle had given him some advice, but there was no way he was kissing a complete stranger. Thus, Drizzt was vastly relived when she held out her hand in greeting.

A couple seconds of awkward silence ensued after they finished the handshake. Jarlaxle broke it.

"Well, I'm sure Miss Telemdil would like to get settled in. This," he handed her a piece of paper, "is your room number. We shall see you tomorrow."

Five minutes later, the next contestant arrived.

"Arana Hakar," Jarlaxle read off a paper, "Pirate from the Sword Coast."

Drizzt frowned. He had hunted pirates, and had seen enough of their handiwork to feel completely justified in doing so.

"_Former_ pirate," Arana corrected, walking up to them. She was half a head shorter than Drizzt, with cropped blond hair. She didn't wear any armor, but did have a cutlass on her left hip.

"Ah. Glad to hear it."

Jarlaxle gave her the room number.

The next contestant came in shortly after Arana had left. This time it was a half-elf.

She started to introduce herself, but paused, staring at a point somewhere behind Drizzt. He followed her gaze to the shadowy corner where Entreri was standing, or rather, where Entreri _had_ been standing. He noticed Jarlaxle had disappeared as well.

"What is it?" he asked.

"I just thought I saw…never mind," she shook her head; "I'm Calihye. From Vaasa."

Drizzt felt something shoved into his hand. It was a slip of paper with a number three written on it. He guessed at what it was.

"This is your room. I suppose I'll see you tomorrow.

"What was that about?" he asked after she had left.

"I didn't want to draw her attention," Jarlaxle answered, becoming visible with a tug of his hat, "Artemis and I were in Vaasa not too long ago, and while I'm sure that Miss Calihye will notice me soon enough, let's let her adjust slowly."

"I don't suppose that has anything to do with the fact that Entreri is still missing?" Drizzt asked suspiciously.

Jarlaxle laughed.

"He's probably off somewhere plotting the most efficient yet painful way to kill me."

Drizzt opened his mouth to ask, but he shook his head, filing the question in his mental "don't ask" pile. This pile was quite full, containing, among other things, almost every question he had ever wondered about Thibbledorf Pwent.

After several minutes of chatter –there was no such thing as awkward silence around Jarlaxle– Drizzt was almost relived when the door opened.

In stepped another elf. There were, however, several notable differences: two long dirks hung on her hips, she was wearing mostly black, and her hair was cut short, just below her ears. But the most notable difference was that she had black skin, and the aforementioned hair was white. A drow.

"Mayafae Rilyn'ar," she said, when Drizzt failed to ask her name, "Formerly of Ched Nesad."

"Formerly?" Drizzt asked. Her clothes looked like they were of drow make, as did her weapons.

"It's a long story," she grinned, "I'd love to tell you sometime."

"It will have to be some _other_ time though," Jarlaxle said smoothly, "I'm sure you're tired from the trip."

Drizzt raised an eyebrow in question, but it made more sense as there was another knock on the door, just after Mayafae had left through another door, presumably to where the rooms were.

A human woman entered. a few stray wisps of brown hair escaped the cord keeping it tied back, and her fingers twitched nervously on the hilt of her rapier. She grinned, showing a few more teeth than necessary.

"Solissa Martel. Pirate hunter."

Drizzt frowned slightly. A pirate _hunter_? There was a pirate –a former pirate –here already. Drizzt could see the potential for a nasty situation. He glanced at Jarlaxle, but the mercenary seemed unconcerned.

As she left, Drizzt sighed, thinking of all the papers. He wasn't sure how long it had been, but it felt like a very long time, and they'd only met the first five!

"Well, that's it," Jarlaxle said, "You'll want to get some sleep. It's a big day tomorrow."

Drizzt blinked.

"What?"

"That was the last one."

"But what about all those papers?" There had been so many!

"Well some could be eliminated immediately, of course," said Jarlaxle, "There about a hundred from drow priestesses. It would have been a good way to get close and kill you."

They were still trying to do that? Didn't they have anything better to do?

"What about Mayafae?" he asked.

"House Rilyn'ar was destroyed several decades ago for Vhaeraunite sympathies."

"Oh," Drizzt seemed slightly more calm now, "Goodnight then."

Jarlaxle waited until he had left to allow himself a quiet chuckle.

* * *

Solissa Martel found the door with the number two on it. Opening it, she noticed several things. There were two beds, with room beside each one for bags and such. On one of the beds was…

"You!" she spat.

Arana Hakar lazily opened one eye. She closed it again.

"You can't kill me, Martel," she said, "Read the note."

Solissa opened the heretofore unnoticed envelope on the pillow of the unoccupied bed. She scowled at the pirate before reading it.

"_Greetings!_

_As I'm sure you've already noted, you will be sharing a room. This is for reasons of space. You never know; perhaps you'll make a new friend!"_

Solissa noticed the writing here was a bit shaky, as if the writer had been trying not to laugh.

"_There will be various challenges throughout the contest. The more success you have in the challenges, the more time you will spend with Drizzt. There will also be periodic eliminations, at which one contestant will have to go home._

_There are a few ground rules:_

_-You are stuck with your roommate until one of you is eliminated. No trading._

_-You will see some shiny devices throughout Mithril Hall. You may not tamper with, destroy, or cover up the said devices._

_-No killing/incapacitating the other contestants unless otherwise stated._

_-You can quit at any time, but once you leave, you may not return._

_Jarlaxle, Contest Manager_"

* * *

Mayafae Rilyn'ar opened the door marked "1." After reading the note, she glanced at her "roommate." It was inconvenient, but she would just have to make sure her "roomie" got eliminated quickly. Judging by how the surface elf was determinately ignoring her, she was entertaining similar thoughts.

Mayafae was already plotting as she drifted into Reverie.

* * *

Calihye sighed as she burrowed further under the covers. Was she seeing things? First she thought she saw Entreri, then she heard Jarlaxle.

Calihye glanced over her shoulder when she heard the door open, then turned back. It was just the roommate the note had mentioned.

She returned to her earlier train of thought; had she seen him? No, she decided. It was just nerves. She kept telling herself that as she fell into a restless sleep.

* * *

_A/N: There's chapter three! Sorry about the delay. Here's hoping the next one doesn't take nearly as long. To anyone who is wondering, Calihye is the only canon character I could imagine doing this. The rest are OC's._

_BTW, I am welcoming suggestions for challenges!_


End file.
